


He's Golden

by DirkDatAssStrider



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Guns, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Modern AU, Pocket knives, Smut, This has a lot of gay in it, Violence, stealing stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirkDatAssStrider/pseuds/DirkDatAssStrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny Cade is a nineteen year old kid without a home and anywhere to go. That's only until he meets Dallas Winston and Twobit Matthews, who give him a sense of purpose and a warm place to sleep.</p><p>MODERN AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ((It’s MAJORLY disappointing that there’s no well written longfics for the ship. So I decided to write one. C: It’s a modern day AU. Johnny is 19, Dally is 22, Ponyboy is 17, Two-Bit is 22, Sodapop is 20, Steve is 20, Darry is 23. Smut will probably be in later chapters.))

The air was crisp as little flakes of snow swirled around in the pitch black sky. The moon was absent in the inky sky. The only lighting for the whole block was a hideous neon green florescent light on the old bar window, the dim glow reflecting off of Johnny’s dark skin as he shifted his weight, trying his damnedest to look twenty one. 

 

He had a baby face—too big black eyes and rounded off features, plus the stature of a twelve year old. Despite being almost twenty, his face was devoid of facial hair and his olive skin was smooth with the exception of a large pinkish scar under his right eye. He’d have to look seriously tough if he wanted to get away with strolling in the place. 

 

The door dinged when he opened it, and Johnny had to let his eyes adjust to the dim, smoky atmosphere. It was a dive bar, that’s for sure. Mismatched stools lined the broken down bar counter, a few couches sat in odd places, and a pool table was off in the back corner. A broken down jukebox played a low, warped version of an Elvis song, and rowdy men and scantily clad women seemed to be everywhere, too busy with laughing, hooting, and hollering to notice the child-like man enter. 

 

Quiet as a mouse, he parked himself on a stool closer to the door—‘case he had to make a break for it or something. He had a lousy fake ID on him, but he knew no one was gonna fall for how fake it was. If he got caught, he’d bail. Real simple.

 

The bartender was a goofy looking man. Not goofy as in weird lookin’ or anything—just goofy as in his personality. He was one of the loudest laughs in the place, speaking animatedly with his hands to emphasize. He was real tall—probably six foot something, and had a tough looking red tinged hairdo. 

 

When the bartender finally walked over to Johnny’s side of the counter, his green eyes landed on him with sudden interest. Johnny’s heart froze in his chest and his hands twitched in the pockets of his too big jean jacket, but when the bartender broke out into a cartoonish grin, Johnny let out a small sigh of relief. 

 

“Hey, ain’t seen your mug ‘round here before. New to this side of town?” he asked in a light, playful voice as he busied himself with wiping the cracked countertop. 

 

Johnny swallowed, focusing on sounding older. “Uh, yeah. I am.” 

 

“Damn, kid, that’s rough. You ain’t no older than nineteen, I’m guessin’? Already on this side of the tracks.” He shook his head but didn’t break his grin. “Tsk.”

 

Johnny’s face went a little redder. “You, uh?”

 

“Psh, duh. ‘Course I know you ain’t twenty one. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna kick you out, though.” The bartender winked, smirking mischievously. “I’m weak for big eyes like yours, kiddo.”

 

Johnny felt himself relax a little, his hands unclenching in his pockets. “Thanks, man.” 

 

“Oh, how rude am I!” he gasped, overdramatic. “I haven’t introduced myself to polite company. Hello, young sir, my name’s Twobit and I own this dump. And who might you be?” 

 

A small smile crossed Johnny’s lips. “Johnny. Johnny Cade.” 

 

“Johnny Cade!” Twobit exclaimed, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning in real close, squinting his eyes to study Johnny. “Ok, got it. I’ll always remember your name now, kid.”

 

Before Johnny could respond, a soft chest pressed against his back and two hands encircled his waist. He cringed a little, turning his head to get a look at his surprise cuddler, only to meet the face of a sultry looking girl with heavy eyeliner and big, pouty red lips. Her black curls cascaded around her heart shaped face.

 

“Hey, Two, who’s the freshie?” she asked, burrowing her cheek in Johnny’s shoulder. He had to swallow, this was awful forward and golly, she sure did smell nice. 

 

Twobit’s bright green eyes darkened. “Sylvia, why don’t you lay off? He just got here, I ain’t even gotten his order yet.” 

 

“Oh, in that case,” She looked at Johnny with her playful blue eyes and smirked, “Why don’t ya serve him up a Blowjob? My treat.” 

 

Johnny’s ears burned red as he locked gazes with Twobit, who merely shrugged. 

 

“Blowjob it is, then. Be right back, Johnny-o.” And with that, he strolled away to make the weirdly named drink. 

 

Sylvia sat on the stool next to him, before pulling a sticky of glossy red lipstick from seemingly nowhere, applying it artfully on her plush lips.

 

“So. Johnny, is it?” 

 

“Y—eah.” His voice cracked and his ears burned even hotter.

 

She smiled real pretty. It reminded Johnny of a lioness on a hunt. 

 

“You’re real cute, kid, you know?” Her eyes sparkled under her thick lashes. “How old are you?” 

 

“Nineteen.”

 

“Good.” She said simply, scooting her stool closer to him. Her bare thigh was pressed against his. “You got a ladyfriend to hold you close at night, Johnny, baby?” 

 

He licked his lips out of nervous habit. “No, uh. I don’t.”

 

Sylvia leaned in real close and pressed her soft lips against his jawline, right under his ear. He couldn’t stop the shudder that rolled through him, after all, he was a virgin and no woman had ever done this sort of thing to him. 

 

“Johnny.” The way she said his name had so much heat in it that he thought he saw stars. “You wanna go upstairs? Get a room…..?”

 

Before Johnny could formulate a proper English sentence, the bell rang on the door, and heavy footfalls echoed off of the walls. The entire place fell silent as the two men entered, both equally terrifying. But the real scary one right now was the guy with long black hair and a jigjag scar down his face, real scary looking. Enough to give Johnny the shakes he used to get when he was scared of his old man. The guy’s eyes were black coals blazing as they trained right on Johnny.

 

Sylvia smiled all innocent like, wrapping her arm around Johnny’s waist. “Hello, Shepard, Winston.” She greeted, playing idly with Johnny’s hair.

 

Shepard—the guy with blazing coals for eyes, scowled. “The fuck are you doin’, Sylvie? With a goddamned kid?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Tim. Figured if you were goin’ to be too busy suckin’ Dallas off, I’d get me some action.” She spat, clearly annoyed, “It’s only fair.” 

 

Dallas—the other scary guy, finally spoke up. “Tim, what did I fuckin’ say about this broad? She pulled the same shit with me.”

 

Dallas looked Johnny right in the eye, and he couldn’t stop looking scared out of his wits. After all, this guy was all too handsome and his icy blue eyes were blazing daggers. His pale blond hair moved in wisps behind his ears and he was clearly as tall as Twobit.

 

“Hey, kid, you like pickin’ up taken women?” asked Tim, crossing over to Johnny’s stool and effectively making it impossible to escape. 

 

Johnny bit his lip. His stomach was tore up.

 

“I asked ya a goddamn question, buddy.” Tim said, eyes narrowed to slits.

 

Twobit spoke up from the back, “Tim, don’t blame the kid, Sylvie was all up in his grill and all.”

 

“A course she was, slutty bitch.” Tim spat at her.

 

The next few seconds were kind of a blur—Johnny just remembers Sylvia taking a swing at Tim, who dodged and turned to punch her clear in the nose. Johnny had whirled in front of her and took the punch square in the eye, reeling back with the force of it and busting his head against the bar counter. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for the commenters who want to buy me a blowjob
> 
>  
> 
> u rock guys

“He’s comin’ to, Dal.” A voice said, grimly serious. 

 

“Mind go gettin’ the kid some more ice, Matthews? He’s gonna have a shiner for weeks.”

 

“Sure thing.” 

 

Footfalls echoed and then silence—steady, unnerving silence that was broken but the rhythmic thumping of fingers against wood. Johnny’s face burned real bad, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before. His eyes fluttered open slowly, but the realization slowly dawned on him that his left eye was almost swollen shut. 

 

He turned his head slowly, trying to gather his wits. He was met with a pair of icy eyes staring right at him, not angry or sad or anything, just curious. Still, Johnny just about bolted, scrambling back on the small bed he was on until he met the wall. 

 

“Whoa, kid, calm down.” He said, his voice just the slightest bit amused. 

 

“W—Where am I?” Johnny asked, his voice scratchy and scared sounding.

 

“The apartment just above the bar. My and Two’s place.” He explained in a calm, unwavering voice, like he was talking to a small animal. 

 

Johnny’s memory of this guy slowly returned. “You’re….”

 

“Dallas Winston.” He said with a dangerous smile. “But you ain’t gotta be scared of me, kid, I didn’t haul ass and bust your nose and your head.” 

 

His head throbbed at the mention of it, and he slowly reached back to touch it, only to realize he’d been bandaged up. He frowned. He probably did look real tough right now, all swollen and bruised like the punching bag he was used to being. 

 

Johnny caught Dallas’s icy gaze and his face flushed, embarrassed at being seen as the wimp he felt like he was. This guy obviously ran with some tough people, so it was no telling what he thought of some kid who got knocked clean out in one hit. Johnny didn’t think it would be a very high opinion at all. 

 

The door to the apartment opened, and Twobit strolled in, with a small bag of ice and a Coke. He smiled kind of solemnly and passed them both to Johnny.

 

“Ice for your head, Coke ‘cause I figured you’re just about dyin’ of thirst after bein’ out for a day and a half.” 

 

Johnny took both of the items and smiled a little gratefully. “Thanks.” 

 

“No problameo.” Twobit said, parking himself right on the edge of the bed. 

 

Johnny opened the Coke first and took a big swig of it, feeling better as the liquid ran down his throat. Sudden alarm passed through him and he coughed and sputtered so hard that Twobit had to pat his back.

 

“You said I’d been out for—a day and a half?” He sputtered, his eyes wide in shock. 

 

“Yeah, why?” Dallas asked curiously, his eyebrow quirked. 

 

Johnny didn’t want to mention that he’d lost his bed in the shelter he’d been staying at, so he just looked down, ears aflame in embarrassment as the two men looked at him with odd expressions. 

 

“….Hey, Johnny.” Twobit’s voice was soft, questioning. “If you ain’t got anywhere to stay, you might as well just stay right here. This bein’ my extra room and all.”

 

Johnny swallowed, looking uneasily at Twobit and Dallas. Twobit seemed like a nice guy, and Dallas… well, he just seemed plain old terrifying. 

 

“Thanks, but.” Johnny swallowed. “….I can’t be a mooch.”

 

“Ahhh, kid, think nothing of it.” Twobit said, smiling broadly. “I’ll put ya to work at the bar, no sweat.” 

 

Johnny took another unsure drink of the Coke in his hands. He didn’t have nowhere else to be, nobody who wanted to see him. He might as well.

 

With an unsteady smile, he nodded. “Okay, thanks, man.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh look a double update

Dallas Winston had never felt this before.

 

He’s not fuckin’ stupid, mind you. He’s not some dame who falls for every pair of doe eyes they see, no way. It was just a _feeling_ , one he wouldn’t be able to name if he’d tried.

 

This kid. Johnny’s his name. He’s real small, and his large brown eyes suggest that he’s a baby. Just a kid. 

 

Dallas knew better. He has to be at least nineteen, he’s way too skittish to be fresh up on the chopping block. He’s seen some shit, Dallas can tell just by the way Johnny hugs himself in crowded places, trying to camouflage his existence from potential threats. A defense mechanism.

 

Dallas almost sees how he could have turned out in Johnny. Instead of choosing to harden himself and resent the world for the hold it had on him, he could have caved in on himself, become a shell of a person like Johnny had. 

 

Johnny scares him that way.

 

He scares him to his very core, because deep in there, Dallas wanted to be normal. He did. He didn’t like having to gamble for meals or get in gangfights. But these feelings—these hopes he’d had a long time ago—had been repressed up until the moment he’d saw Sylvia draped across this kid’s shoulders.

 

Dallas had the means to stand up and tell the world to fuck off, he could handle it. But it was obvious in the way Johnny had been sitting that he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t protect himself from getting pushed to the ground. He had gotten used to the bottom and he couldn’t climb up.

 

Dallas couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to protect Johnny. To pick him back up and show him that he doesn’t have to take anyone’s shit—not Sylvia’s, not Tim’s, nobody’s. 

 

Dallas crushed the fizzling cigarette beneath his brown leather boot, looking up at the inky black New York skyline. He was perched on the small patio that jutted out from Twobit’s building, overlooking the shittest part of the city. If Dallas tried, he could hear the screams and gunshots of potential crimes not a block away. 

 

He swallowed the dry, acrid air. His throat stung.

 

Second week with Johnny, and he’d already been reduced to a sniveling baby.

 

Dammit.

 

“Um.” A small voice, timid like a dove, piped up from behind him, and Dallas turned.

 

Johnny was standing in the doorway, wearing one of Twobit’s old washed up Rolling Stones tshirts. His raven hair was dripping onto the stone floor of the patio, and the smell of discount apple scented shampoo wafted through the night air. 

 

The shirt was far too big on him, and his bare olive toned legs were visible from under the frayed hem. Shorts—he was wearing shorts, Dallas repeated this to himself. Nothing weird to think about. 

 

He cursed at himself mentally.

 

“Hm? Need something, man?” 

 

Johnny fiddled with a loose strand on the shirt, looking as shy as ever. It was kind of endearing.

 

Dallas almost wanted to smile, and then punch himself in the face for even considering that. 

 

“Are you goin’ out again tonight, Dal?” he asked in a voice so soft that Dallas almost missed it. Johnny wasn’t looking at him. 

 

“Yeah. Got a thing to do with Shepard’s boys. You know em.” Dallas said smoothly, and Johnny frowns, eyebrows knitting together.

 

“….oh.” he said, looking really unhappy with the answer.

 

“Something the matter, Johnny?” Dallas prompted, moving to light another cigarette. 

 

“Be careful.” He said, and his soft brown eyes locked with icy blue ones. They were pleading, scared, so full of emotion that it was overwhelming. 

 

Dallas felt his heart beat quicken, and for a brief moment, he was at a loss. 

 

“Please, Dal, I’m serious.” Johnny continued, voice strained. “You saw what happened to that guy last week. I don’t…” he swallowed. 

 

“Hey, hey, kid.” Dallas recovered enough to maintain his cool demeanor. “I’ll be fine, swear it. We’re just talkin’ to another gang, no biggie.” 

 

Johnny seemed to relax only a little. “Okay.” 

 

Dallas’s heart was still doing flips in his chest as he patted Johnny’s shoulder, offering him his best carefree smile.

 

“I’ll be fine, Johnnycake.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Encouragement really helps me move things along faster :)

It was midnight and Johnny was working the bar.

 

Twobit’s bar stayed open as long as someone was up to work. That someone tonight was Johnny—Twobit had crashed an hour ago and Dallas was….

 

Johnny didn’t want to think about Dallas right now.

 

He offered to let Twobit sleep it off tonight so he could stay up late to see Dallas when he came home. Johnny hated to admit it, but he always got very worried when Dallas left for things like this. Johnny could just see the danger and angst that Dallas carried—he knew that the potential for him to die in a reckless and violent death was high in this sort of town. 

 

He wanted to save him. 

 

That was a stupid thought if he’d ever had one, he knows. Still. He can’t help wishing for it.

 

 _Ding._ _Ding._ _Ding._

 

Johnny looks up from the bar he’d been wiping down, to see three guys enter the bar. 

 

The first is tall, built like a brick house. He has a rugged sort of look, Johnny imagines his hands are pretty calloused and rough. He wore a stained grey tshirt and ratty jeans, hair combed back off of his forehead. He’s followed by a slightly shorter man with light, laughing green eyes and wheat gold tinged hair, talking animatedly with his hands to the third guy.

 

The third guy looked pretty terrifying, but Johnny thinks that maybe it’s just because of the deep default scowl he was wearing. His hair was black and swirled in complex ways around his head, and a lit cigarette balanced precariously off of his bottom lip as he focused on what his pal was prattling on about.

 

The brick house guy sat at the bar with a disgruntled expression as he locked eyes with Johnny. 

 

“Hey, kid.” He says, and Johnny notes the fact that he sounds young, despite his outward appearance. “You new here?” 

 

Johnny busies himself with drying a shot glass. He tries his best to look older—and nonchalant. Sure, the laws were pretty lax on this side of town, but he wasn’t legal to be on this side of the bar and he knew it. “Yeah, been here for three weeks.” 

 

“Hm.” Said the man, looking Johnny up and down. “Two’s been gettin’ awful cheeky with the fuzz lately, hasn’t he?” 

 

Before Johnny could respond, the laughing guy sits on the next bar stool and slams his hand onto the countertop, startling Johnny, who almost loses his grip on the shot glass. 

 

“Careful, Sodapop.” The scowling guy’s expression morphs to bemusement. “You’re scaring the new kid.” 

 

“Haha, sorry.” Sodapop says, looking at Johnny all bashful like. Johnny thinks he’s awfully handsome, like a movie star. “Where’s Twobit?”

 

“Passed out upstairs.” Johnny says matter of factly, jamming his thumb into the direction of upstairs. “But, uh, I’m pretty good at this sort of thing. I can get you anything you want.” 

 

Sodapop’s grin grows and he leans a little closer to Johnny, eyes half lidded and voice low, “I don’t suppose you’re on the menu?” 

 

Johnny goes bright red in the face and the guy with complicated hair elbows him in the ribs. 

 

“Ow, Steve, c’mon!” Sodapop whines and leans back, holding his side. “I’m just joking, babe, you know I only have eyes for your sorry ass.”

 

Steve puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar top, looking much like a scorned girlfriend. “You ain’t going to have eyes if you don’t start keeping them to yourself.” 

 

Soda just laughs and kisses him on the cheek. “Aw. Love you too.” 

 

“Hey, kid, how about a round straight whiskey?” 

 

Johnny nods and works on the very simple order, and gets caught in a conversation with them as they work on their drinks. 

 

It was sometime around two a.m. when Dally finally waltzes through the bar. His brown leather jacket is slung over his shoulder and his pale blonde hair is pushed back on his head. A large cut was visible on his forehead, dripping blood down his pale and slightly reddened face. His left eye was swollen almost shut, but other than that, the only other disturbances were his clothes. Torn in more places than usual, and bloodstained.

 

A sinking feeling settles in Johnny’s gut as Dally takes the last available bar stool, lips pressed tight together.

 

The other three guys spin in their seats to look at him. 

 

“Fuck, Dal. Why’d you go lookin’ for trouble at this hour?” Darry asks, concern laced in his voice. Johnny was a little unsettled by Darry’s forewardness in asking, usually Dal would act cagey as all hell about his late night endeavors. Johnny figured that maybe Darry was already well acquainted with Dallas’s antics. 

 

Dally shifts in his seat and wipes some blood from his nose. He makes eye contact with Johnny before turning to look at Darry.

 

“Tim’s in some shit, boys.” Dally says, voice neutral and lacking any sort of emotional conviction. “Got caught with his hands around his broad’s neck.” 

 

It was uncomfortably quiet for a long moment.

 

Johnny’s eyes narrow. “You weren’t anywhere near that, were you, Dal?” 

 

He turns to Johnny with a steeled expression. “Let’s just say I ain’t staying in town much longer.”


End file.
